let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast, we
seen it through the accolades and rested in its lea, syntactic
is our
elegance, incisive our disease, the swath endogenous of
ourselves will
be our quandary, we've nestled in its hollow and we've succkled
at its
breast, grandiloquent in attitude, impassioned yet inept,
gavel our design, ludicrous our threat, excursive expeditions
leave us
holding less and less, so what does it mean? when we tell
it's only for a while we have been deceived and it's only for a
that the treasures of our day make life easier to complicate,
treasure thrown away, i'm so tired of all the fucked up minds of
the terrorist religions and their bullshit lines, of all the
downs from all industrial crimes and the weeping mothers and
those who
aree led som blind, from the plastic protests and the hands of
and the pursuit of mirth and all hating kind

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